


That Time the Scions Did a Boudoir Calendar Fundraiser

by akueria



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aymeric is a closeted WoL fanboy, Gen, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), WoL's new career is a smallclothes model I guess, exploitation of Allagan technology, no beta we die, this is how Tataru fundraises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22616998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akueria/pseuds/akueria
Summary: Tataru has the brilliant idea to sell a ~sexy~ calendar and use the funds to pay for future Scion operations. How the hell did the Warrior of Light get roped into this?
Comments: 17
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

You hated when Tataru had this scheming look on her face. That look usually meant she was up to something that would be shady or worse…involve you in doing the said shady activity.

“My dear Warrior…” Tataru sing-songs, looking at you like a cat that caught its prey. “We are low on funding, and I just had the most wonderful idea.” You gulp. “We are going to make a calendar and sell copies of it!” Tataru exclaimed.

You release the tension your body had been holding. “Oh, that doesn’t sound too bad.” You murmur, looking at Tataru. “Cid and Nero found the most miraculous Allagan tech the other day. It’s like an instant painting machine. I think it would be amazing to have portraits of you added to the calendar. Are you free for a few bells tomorrow?” Tataru asks.

“Oh, uh, sure! I’d really like to see this new tech they found. What time should I meet you?” You didn’t know it at the time, but you just signed your death warrant.

* * *

“Uh, Tataru, what is all this?” You look around the room, bewildered. The previously unused supply closet in the back of the Rising Stones was now decorated to look like a quite lavish bedroom. In the corner was a dressing screen adjacent to a clothing rack with rather risqué clothing hanging on it, as well as a large four poster bed in the middle of the room. Tataru was at the side of the room, looking over a rather small, rectangular object with Nero.

“Oh good, you’re here! Nero is here to operate the…what did you call it again?” Tataru looked over at the Garlean, who was wearing a shit eating grin. “A camera. Well, Warrior! You can’t be looking like this if we’re going to sell some calendars!” He clapped his hands, and Tataru started pushing you to the corner of the room where the dressing screen was.

“Okay, get undressed! I’ll be back to help you put on your outfit.” Tataru chirps happily, moving out from behind the screen and towards the clothing rack.

“W-Wait, Tataru! What in seven hells is going on?! I thought this was a portrait session?” You say bewildered, attempting to move from out behind the screen. You are stopped by the Lalafell holding up something sinfully small and lacy on a hanger. “Oh, did I not say what type of portraits they were going to be? My mistake! Now strip. We’re on a tight schedule before Cid comes looking for that camera.”

She shakes the hanger at you, making you go back behind the screen. You sigh and start to take off your armor before you hear Nero say, “Wait! These would be perfect portraits. The esteemed Warrior of Light shedding their armor after a long day of…whatever it is that you do every day. Come out from behind the screen.” “Oh, brilliant, Nero! I should have thought of that myself. Come, Warrior!” Tataru beckoned, putting the lacy garment back on the clothing rack.

You look up, a light blush starting to dust your cheeks. _‘What in Thal’s balls did I get myself into? But…if it’s going to help fund the Scions quests I guess it won’t be harmful…right?’_ “Oh...uh...okay.” You slowly move away from the screen, towards where Nero and Tataru were standing near the camera. “What… exactly should I do?” You question, looking at both of them.

“Okay, just imagine this in your head,” Nero starts. “You’ve just gotten back from a long and arduous fetching quest for some pompous noble and you cannot wait to just rest and relax. Let’s start by having you take your gauntlets off.” Nero readies the camera, making a motion with his head towards Tataru. She picks up what looks like a large cluster of fire shards and shakes it. The cluster starts emitting a bright light. Nero looks pleased, and puts the camera up to one eye. “At your leisure, Warrior.”

You start sweating a little, but do what is asked of you. You begin imagining a recent quest where you had to fetch wine for Gegeruju, and how relieved you were to finally finish it and go home. You gently unbuckle your gauntlets from your arms, only slightly noticing the furious clicking sound coming from Nero’s direction.

“That’s it, now, look up at me- No, not like you just smelled something bad, like you are contemplating something- YES like that. Perfect! Keep going.” Nero was furiously tapping a small button on the camera. You place your gauntlets on the bed and sit down, looking up at Nero for directions. “Okay, now I want you to start unlacing your boots, very slowly.” You lift your right leg up, starting the arduous task of unlacing your boots.

“Tataru, make sure the light is hitting them just right!” Nero barks, while getting closer to you and focusing the camera on your hands. All this sudden activity flusters you, and you pull back a bit. “Why are you stopping?” Nero groans exasperatedly, keeping the camera steady. “Nero, you’re….awfully enthusiastic about these portraits. Why are you helping Tataru?” You question, stilling your hands. Nero sighs and pulls the camera down from his face. “If you must know, Mistress Tataru and I agreed on a nice sum of gil if I were to help her. Now keep unlacing!”

* * *

A bell has passed, and you’ve started getting comfortable with the situation you were in. It wasn’t ideal, but the thought of these photos kind of thrilled you in a weird way, like this was a glimpse of something only a lover would see. You were changing into your fifth outfit, a thin, black choker with a lace harness that connected to a pair of lace smallclothes. Nero crudely said that it would focus nicely on your ‘assets’, attempting to get a rise out of you. You tried your best to ignore how that comment made you feel, because he was right. You looked like sin incarnate in this.

Speaking of the Garlean, every time you had gone to change outfits, he and Tataru were gathered around discussing the portraits he had taken. You couldn’t help but overhear the conversation once. “The pose where they had their arm around their waist while lying down and looking to the side was great… We should try more poses where they’re looking a little more debauched. Maybe we could use them as limited edition incentives for people to purchase the calendar.” Nero had murmured seriously to Tataru, who was nodding fervently in agreement.

“I’m ready now.” You said, walking back over to the bed. Nero and Tataru looked up at the sound of your voice. Tataru squealed in delight, clapping her hands furiously in excitement. Nero just looked up and down your body in shock. “We’re going to make so much gil!” He said with glee, readying his camera.

* * *

You were finally on your last outfit, if you could even call it that. It was just a long, deep blue ribbon that Tataru had wrapped around your body and tied together in a nice, big bow that conveniently covered your nipples. “This will be for the Sixth Umbral Moon! Perfect for the Starlight Celebration.” Tataru cooed, helping you move from behind the screen.

You moved back onto the bed, getting into a comfortable position. Nero made a sound of contemplation. “Something is missing. Tataru, do you have more of that ribbon?” He asked, looking at the Lalafell. “Yes, one moment.” She ran back behind the screen and grabbed a piece of ribbon. “Perfect! Tie it around their eyes.” Nero said mischievously, looking way too proud of this sudden bout of genius he had. You moved closer to the edge of the bed, bending down so Tataru could tie the ribbon around your eyes.

“Alright Hero, now I want you to fall onto the bed.” Nero instructed, moving closer to the edge of the bed. You flopped onto the bed, as if you were protecting your body from injury. “No, no, not like you’re in a fight. Like you’ve just been tossed there by a suitor and they’re about to debauch you so furiously that you’re shaking in anticipation.” Nero said matter-of-factly, moving the camera back to his face. You try again, the movement cue making your imagination stir. It must have been correct, because Nero made a sound of approval. You repeated this motion a few more times before Nero told you to stop and lie down, taking a few more shots from above.

“Alright, now you need to place your leg a bit further up… No not like that, seven hells! Let me just do it.” Nero went to grab at your leg, just as a door opened.

“Tataru, have you seen Nero? Cid is here looking for him…Oh Nophica preserve what is going on in here?” Coultenet exclaimed, taking in the sight of the room. You were starting to sweat a bit from the exertion of falling on the bed, and Nero was gripping your leg. All of this while Tataru was holding that damned fire shard cluster to get the lighting right. “Oh, Coultenet! Please close the door. Can you hold this for me? I fear the desired lighting effect we want isn’t working with my height.” Tataru said sweetly, most likely glaring daggers at the Elezen.

“Oh uh, sorry! Hoary Boulder is waiting for me and uh… CID I FOUND THEM!” Coultenet screeched, running out of the room and leaving the door wide open. “Well, it seems our portrait session is over. Good job, team! I’ll develop these at once, Mistress Tataru.” Nero said with a rush, quickly getting off the bed and exiting the room. Tataru looked at where Nero once was, before panicking a little and leaving the room, closing the door.

“Tataru? Nero? Hello?” Great, they had left you tied up in an obnoxious bow AND blindfolded. You try to break the ribbon by flexing your arms, but the ribbon wouldn't budge. Fuck. Who knows who will find you in this state?

* * *

“A package from the Scions of the Seventh Dawn has arrived for you, Lord Commander.” A knight says to Aymeric. “Perfect timing. I was growing impatient. Please place it by my desk.” The Elezen said coolly, not looking up from his stack of paperwork. The knight did as he was told and saluted before leaving the room. Once the door was closed, Aymeric sprung up from his desk towards the package. He started ripping feverishly at the adhesive to open it. He opened the package and saw the contents inside, and could not hold back an animalistic sound of joy. His four calendars had finally arrived. Now should he be a good boy and wait each moon to change the calendar portrait, or treat himself and feast his eyes upon each portrait? As he jostled one of the calendars, a small envelope fell from between its pages.

Curious, he opened the envelope and saw a small note addressed to him, as well as a small sliver of sturdy paper. The note was scrawled in lovely script, no doubt the work of the Scions’ secretary, Tataru.

_Ser Aymeric,_

_Thank you for helping fund future Scion operations! I have included these limited photocards with your purchase. Please enjoy them to the fullest. We look forward to serving you again!_

_Best Regards,_

_Tataru Taru_

Aymeric flipped the small photocard over and cursed out loud. It was of the Warrior of Light, naked and tied up in a Borel blue ribbon lying down on a bed, blindfolded. He quietly prayed to Halone for this blessing, staring at the photocard with fervent adoration. This was possibly the best purchase he had ever made.


	2. Help your city, help rebuild the Firmament!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our esteemed Warrior is once again called to aid a noble cause by posing in suggestive outfits.

“Warrior! Warrior!” A voice called out for you as you finish unloading a bunch of stone to help the stonemasons who were rebuilding the next section of the Firmament. It was Francel, and he looked a little apprehensive.

“Francel, what can I do for you?” You smiled, leaning against your miner’s hammer.

“I have a favor to ask of you. We want to let people know we are still looking for workers, and I had a brilliant idea. I know that the Scions sold a… calendar a while back.” He looked shy, scratching his cheek.

You blanched at the mention of that damned calendar, and stared the Elezen down, trying not to immediately refuse before he was done.

“A-and I was wondering, would you be able to sit for a portrait for the new posters? If people knew you were helping with the rebuilding effort, I’m sure there would be more volunteers!” Francel tried to give his best doe eyes at you, waiting for your response.

All you could do was sigh. “Is Nero or Tataru involved in this?”

Francel looked shocked for a moment, before shaking his head fervently. “No! Not at all! Skysteel Machinery has found a new way to make portrait painting relatively painless, and we are using this new technique for the portrait. Could you come to the Haillenarte Manor tomorrow?”

He was lying, and you knew it, deep in your bones.

* * *

“Warrior! Long time no see!” Nero grinned, holding that damned camera in his hand. At least this venue wasn’t a closet in the Rising Stones, you mused.

You glared over at where Francel was standi- hells, he left before you could wring his neck.

“Tataru! Get them into wardrobe, stat! We’re on a time limit!” Nero barked towards a rack of, _you sigh_ , scandalous clothing.

Tataru appeared from behind what looked suspiciously like the house coat Aymeric wore that one time for dinner, and motioned you over. Time to get started.

* * *

“Well, my dear Warrior. Here we are again.” Nero smirked, unabashedly looking you up and down as you walked onto the set a few minutes later. You had been shoved into some scantily too short coveralls, and that was about it. “Tataru, get the oil. I want them to shine like the back of a wet gooblue.”

You blanched at the comparison, dejectedly leaning down to allow the Lalafell to cover you in oil. “Why am I doing this again? I just saved an entirely different world and I’ve been reduced into a model for 10gil novel covers. There’s no ribbon involved this time, right?”

“You can save worlds and still be sexy, you know.” Nero dismissed the whining, grabbing the camera. “Now, go grab that miner’s pick and let’s get to work.”

* * *

Once again, like clockwork, Nero had made you feel at ease with the concept of being less than properly clothed and in front of an audience. How did he manage this? “Nero you should have been a politician. You can be very persuasive.” You comment idly, adjusting the bottom of your smallclothes so they weren’t rubbing your inner thigh in irritation.

Your next outfit had you in a fluffy sweater and some round spectacles, and pretty much nothing else. Nero had touted the concept as, ‘Homebody Weaver’, to ‘show that the common housewife could even help the Firmament with their embroidery’, or some tripe. Twelve knows how many housewives are weaving in nothing but a big sweater, but this was pretty comfortable.

“Now now, dear Warrior. You know you wouldn’t do anything that you didn’t want to do, deep down in your heart. Could you grab that hoop and needle on the table? We’ve got a few more costume changes to go before we’re done.” Nero briefly looked up before he was once again looking at the camera in his hand, but with a slight dusting of pink across his cheeks. Huh, it must be too hot in here.

* * *

“What in Halone’s name?” Aymeric stood stock still in shock, staring at the flyer adorning the side of The Forgotten Knight. It was a flyer looking for help for rebuilding the Firmament. In blazing red letters, it declared, “I WANT YOU TO HELP US REBUILD!”

But that’s not what caught the poor Lord Commander’s eye. It was the fact that, smack dab in the middle, was a portrait of the Warrior of Light. The Warrior of Light, in what looked to be… Aymeric squints and stares at the poster, bright blue smallclothes. All while suggestively straddling a miner’s hammer and pointing at the reader with a ‘come hither’ look.

“Halone take me.” Aymeric muttered, fighting down a blush. He looked around him for witnesses before gingerly untacking the poster from the board. Who had seen this? Who had made these? Where did they get this portrait from? Why had no one sent it to him? He hadn’t heard of the Warrior even being near the Firmament. Granted, he barely left the office except to sleep for a few hours. But the point is that no one thought to make him aware of such an item for his collection! This would not do at all.

* * *

“Lord Francel, I’ve just come from Foundation and saw the Lord Speaker taking down our posters!” Aurvael ran through the doors to Francel’s office, out of breath.

“What?! Did you stop him?” Francel was bewildered at the news his servant brought. Why would the Lord Speaker be upset about the posters? The Warrior of Light themselves had approved of them. So why was he taking them down?

“I tried to stop him but he kept muttering something about collectability..?” Aurvael’s face was one of confusion.

Francel could only sigh. “Well, we have the other printed posters, so I guess we could post those. They weren’t as eye-catching, though.”

* * *

Aymeric yawned, covering his mouth as he exited the Knights Most Heavenly. The paperwork was never ending, and everyone’s problems all seemed to involve him. A short walk would help him clear his mind. Maybe he’d walk over to the Firmament to see how they were progressing. His eyes wandered towards the Forgotten Knight, and towards their bulletin board on the outside.

“Oh no… another one?” Aymeric gasped, before making his way over to the board in excitement. Who kept making these? He was going to have to have a nice, long talk with Lord Francel about this advertisement choice, and hopefully get copies of his own that hadn’t been marred by people’s hands.

It was a new Firmament recruitment poster. In bold, golden letters it decreed, “HELP YOUR CITY, HELP REBUILD THE FIRMAMENT”. Aymeric’s eyes didn’t care for that, though. Once again, the Warrior of Light’s image was in the middle of the poster. They were wearing a poufy, feathered cap, along with some traditional Ishgardian thigh highs, and an alpine coat with nothing underneath it but a sliver of lacy smallclothes. All while holding an alchemist’s alembic with a flirty look upon their face, looking up at whoever graced their eyes upon the poster. Twelve preserve, despite the Warrior being mostly covered, it still packed a punch to Aymeric’s senses.

“Wait, is that my house coat?” He murmured, once again pulling the poster off the board. It was. Halone preserve, how did they get a hold of that? Aymeric stood still, a blush appearing on the tips of his ears.

* * *

“Francel.”

Aymeric’s clear voice demanded attention, and Francel whipped his head up from his stack of papers on his desk, swallowing the small ounce of fear he had at seeing Aymeric’s serious face.

“A-ah, Ser Aymeric! To what do I owe this pleasure?” Francel swallowed, shrinking slightly in his chair.

Aymeric dropped one of the Firmament posters onto his desk, before leaning on the desk with both arms and staring the young lord down. “How many of these did you print?”

“O-of each poster? Well, there were eleven varieties of poster, and we printed at least a hundred of each for the Alliance cities…” Francel mumbled, calculating in his head.

“I want two copies, pristine condition, of each poster. Deliver them to my manor. Is that clear?” Aymeric said, grabbing Francel’s attention again.

Francel blinked, nodding slowly to the request. “Of course, I will do it as soon as I am able.”

“Many thanks. I shan’t bother you any longer.” Aymeric made a move to turn around, before stopping and grabbing the posters he had left on the desk.

It was when Aymeric was about to open the door did he understand why the Lord Commander had been acting so strangely. “Lord Commander if I had known you were such an avid lover of our Warrior I could have just invited you to the photoshoot!”

The tips of Aymeric’s ears went stark red before he stopped and turned around. “The Warrior is not to know about this, is this clear?” He waited for Francel’s nod of assent before opening the door and shutting it.

“Wow, I wonder how big his collection is…” Francel muttered, before returning to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Bookclub's fault. Join us here: https://discord.gg/jYvTVda

**Author's Note:**

> This wouldn't have happened without the lovely folks over in the Book Club discord for making this idea sprout and bloom in my mind. Check it out here: https://discord.gg/UnAfprH


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